Sunday, October 4, 2015

One more push (crime fiction) Pt. 2

She couldn't leave the smell of the perfume scents featured within the pages that gave her a breath of fresh air each time she would allow herself to witness its beauty, but her belly really wouldn't keep quiet for her to remain indulged in her one acceptance into the world she craved to be in. She had to go and prepare her something to eat.

She slowly placed her magazine down and dared to keep blind to her sight, but she was needing her daily fix into her reality. She felt as if the clocked ticked louder there and she was married to routine that beat her whenever it had its chance. Routine had its way with her, and the only time she could be free is by being still.

She entered her kitchen, and stared at the legs that stared back at her, and she asked herself, "Boiled or baked, fried or sautéed, hmm." So many choices that she had tasted all before. She could feel herself wanting to skip dinner and stay within the editorial skies of zero limits and to discover something new, even though she opened, carefully, don't let it get old pages of her drug of choice.

Her vegetables she had witnessed before. The same colors and textures fought for her attention. She dared to say not today, but she lacked the ingredients to try something new. "Okay, I can do this," she said. She thought that this time she would have to endure the fist of routine again but what it didn't know that she was numb to the chaos, and a true change was about to occur.

She cleaned her dishes and took in the scent of bleach and her hands endured the pain of hot water, but she actually enjoyed the stains being removed so fast that she welcomed the injury of the burns. She had her pots boiling with water and she sliced the cabbage and prepared the olive oil to go in after she placed in the cabbage. She decided to bake her chicken today and place bar-b-que on it, sweet honey. She cleaned the 20 day old pan that sat within the refrigerator that she kept putting off till she couldn't take not fixing a golden batch of cornbread and wheat bread just will not do when the cabbage is ready to be eaten. "Ouch," she said. The knife had moved across her flesh and she saw red. The blood was leaving what once covered it and she needed to aid her pain.

As she searched within her medicine cabinet for an antibiotic and Band-Aid, she heard her front door shut. "Hello, is anyone there," she wasn't expecting anyone? "Shoot," but she did forget to lock her door. She walked out of her room to enter back unto the stairs to go into her kitchen, but she couldn't past her second step before her eyes met a stranger who masked herself and wore all black. She lost all words as she stared at a gun pointing towards her. Her body froze and her voice abandoned her. She heard the first shot, but didn't remain awake to witness anymore.

America's Next Top Model


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